


Coffees, cases and kisses

by bisexual_smaug



Series: Coffees, cases and kisses (Mel Silver and Frankie Wharton) [2]
Category: Waking the Dead (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-11
Updated: 2019-04-11
Packaged: 2020-01-11 17:31:15
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,045
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18428777
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bisexual_smaug/pseuds/bisexual_smaug
Summary: Four shorts set at no particular point between season 1-4 finishing with Spence’s death





	Coffees, cases and kisses

Mel walks down the stairs into the glass corridor by the lab. It’s summer and she should be eating sandwiches by the fountain with Spencer or digging through those old trial videos Boyd had given her. Instead she’s just bought two of the crappy vending machine coffees (one with milk, one black with two sugars) and pushes the lab door open with her elbow. Frankie’s in there, hunched over her microscope, two empty cans of diet coke by her open notebook. She looks up as Mel enters.

“Hey babe,” she says  
“Hi darling, have you eaten yet?”  
“What time is it?”  
“Lunchtime.”

She looks confused, even though this happens most days. 

“Gonna take that as a no.”

Mel sits down, presenting Frankie with her coffee offering and producing two cling-film-wrapped ham and cheese sandwiches, and two salt and vinegar crisp packets.

“Sorry it’s not more.”  
“It’s my favourite.” Frankie leans in and gives Mel a peck on the cheek. She opens up the crisps and starts putting them in her sandwich.

“You godless heathen.”  
“You know it.”

And they sit chatting and giggling for a while, until Boyd calls one of them on the lab phone, and Mel goes back to her video files, coffee mostly undrunk. 

*

It’s 11pm on a December night and Mel sits alone in her office. Everyone else has gone home, and it’s just her and her pile of files. This time it’s her turn to forget to eat. She sighs, opens the next file. She’s in for a long night.

There’s a gentle knock at the door, and Frankie is there. 

“I didn’t expect you here so late.”  
“Had to finish processing Boyd’s evidence.”

Frankie enters the room, stands behind Mel and leans her arms on the back of her chair, chin on her girlfriend’s head. 

“How’re the files going?”

Mel leans her head back and sighs in response, pressing it against Frankie’s chin.

“Thought so. Come on, let’s go.”  
“I have to…” Mel gestures weakly at her laptop.

Frankie presses her lips to Mel’s forehead head, closes her eye, wraps her arms around Mel and holds her close for a long moment, letting her warmth sink into her skin and the days of tension leave her body. 

“Work can wait.” This time Mel doesn’t resist.

*

Work often gets in the way of life, even when the most important person in your life is also at your work. 

Mel slips off her messenger bag, lets it thud to the ground next to a houseplant. Frankie takes better care of it than of herself. She’s weary, her back hurts, she forgot dinner again and there’s a million things she has to think about tomorrow. She takes off her coat, her shoes, her socks, lets them fall to the floor too. She can deal with them up later. 

“Frankie.” 

If she comes home from work late, Frankie is usually there at the door with a kiss (and sometimes more), or watching trashy TV with the volume up too loud from the other room, or singing to one of her records in the kitchen making a late dinner. 

“Frankie?” she calls again. Still no response. She sighs and makes her way to the living room.

Frankie is there on the sofa, curled up small against one of the arms. She looks very young, very soft lying there. She needs to be protected, Mel thinks, not that this is true in any way. She’s seen so much and she’s still so young. She deserves the respite. This job takes it out of you.

Mel plops down on the sofa next to her. Frankie stirs slightly.

“Hey,” says Mel. 

Frankie mumbles something unintelligible and repositions herself so she’s cuddled into Mel’s body. Mel tips her head forward and presses her lips into the top of Frankie’s head, breathing in the scent of her hair, sapping the warmth of her body. They sit like this for a long time until Mel tucks her legs up, pulls her love close, and they fall asleep laying intertwined on the sofa, both safe in each other’s arms. It’s good to be home. 

*

Some things never seem possible until they happen. Frankie’s checked the office, the car park and now Mel’s place to no avail. Her girlfriend isn’t answering her phone and now she’s frantic. Boyd is losing his mind and Grace is crying and Frankie is trying to hold it in, to be strong for everyone but it’s too much. And now Mel isn’t here and nobody seems to know where she is and Frankie can’t help but assume the worst. There’s one more place she hasn’t checked, one last place for her to hold on to.

She runs two red lights on her way home but she doesn’t care. She makes her way up the stairs to the lift, gets in, jabs the button. It’s too slow, too slow. She should have taken the stairs. Her phone trills loudly and she almost drops it. 

“Any sign of her?” Boyd’s deep voice on the other end, soothing. She takes a breath.  
“No.”

There’s a long silence, too long, as the lift grinds to a halt on the fourth floor. 

“Where are you?” Boyd asks.

Frankie doesn’t answer. The crack under the door is dark, the lights are off. Her hands shake as she pulls out her keys with the David Bowie keyring Mel gave her, and she does drop them this time. Mel. Why aren’t you here?

“Frankie?” Boyd’s voice cracks.

She gets the door open, slams the lights on. The hall is empty.

“Frankie are you there? Frankie what’s happening?”

And now she’s in the living room and there’s a figure by the couch, blonde head on her knees, wracked with sobs but it’s okay, it’s okay, she’s here.

“She’s here Boyd, she’s here.” She drops the phone. Boyd doesn’t matter, nothing matters anymore except Mel. And now she’s also by the sofa and her arms around Mel, her head on her chest, she has to hold her until the sobbing stops because she can’t bear to see her like this. And then Frankie’s pain overwhelms her too and she cries too, and they cling to each other because in this moment, they are all the other has.


End file.
